it's a strange thing, this air we breathe. its structure is known, its properties understood and yet what if it changed one day? what if what gave you life suddenly instilled a new terror in your soul, a terror so awesome that it reached down into the core of your being and fundamentally altered the way you live your life? this document you are reading, this could very well be the last known communication of those of us on the island. we are not alone.

day 23

another went missing. so few of us left from the original thirty-one. just checked the windows of the cabin, no breaks. they're coming again, it's certain. another sleepless night for those of us on guard duty. why can't we just swim off this island? why are we here?

day 25

the air is thicker the further we float from the island, and the fog is impenetrable. this is not good. we can't remember what year it is, either. our clothes give us no hint, we have no identifying marks placed upon us. and they keep coming. we have the one rifle but we haven't been able to fire on them yet. i think we're all afraid to, all ashamed to. we miss on purpose, and we're running out of bullets. but those things are...[link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lxb1ofLKqG0]zombies[/link], aren't they?

day 26

i hit one. they screamed and fell. i thought they were inhuman - they tore stephen apart when we first met them, for the love of god! i had no choice. i had no choice. it's that damned fog, if i could see the sun, just once...maybe

day 27

the fog is everywhere. i see shadows around every corner. we're not going to make it out alive.

i shot him when he treid to take hte gun away hahahahahesgonenow the island is mine mine mine mine mine mine and the zombies will kneel before me and worship me as the god i am. they want blood the things want blood the shadows want blood give them blood give them blood give them blood give them blood give them blood give them blo

The Island

Welcome, one and all, to the RPF Halloween Mystery game. Though I, your humble host and narrator, doubt very much you'll feel very welcome on this island. You're welcome to set up camp and make yourselves at home, but really, the weather is unseasonably cool for October, and that fog is just not conducive to the creation of smores. I'd recommend another campground all together, really. The Woodsman's Island Campground is...well, you'll see.

won't you stay a while

But I suppose you won't be dissuaded.

we need something from you

Ah well. Feel free to pitch a tent, or rest in the cabin - though I doubt very much a tent would protect you from those...things...

my what teeth you have

There are a few rules; I'll get to those in a minute, so hold your horses. Above all else, I urge you to try and remain calm - and sane - and things will go by smoothly. We need the data, you see; it's vital work we do here, all this research. So please, simply enjoy your time, and try not to feed those things that keep coming in the night. Of course, they might eat you without your consent, but that's hardly your fault, is it?

the better to eat you with hahahahahahahahahaha

Allow me to conclude by reiterating my greeting: Welcome to The Island. Won't you stay a while?

Rules and Regulations of <del>the Woodsman's Island Campground</del>
- Respect your fellow campers.
- The Camp Proprietor retains the right to expel or detain campers as the law requi/>/>/>/>

Some calmed immediately, others took a moment or two; it mattered little, in the end, their mental state. The fog would see to that, and the shadows, and the things that walked in the shadows. They were tools, instruments, scalpels, blunt objects, all things of fear.

But that would come later. For now it was easy, it was good, to breathe in the crisp air, to wake up, to remember. Remember what? some would surely think, and they'd remember there had been a life before this, but the details were vague, nebulous things.

They'd socialize, they'd antagonize, this was certain; they'd mingle, they'd think and plan and plot and investigate, but the results would be the same time and time again. The island was small, yet comfortable for the thirty-odd individuals trapped on it. There was space plenty to hide, to seek, and to discover nooks and crannies to make one's mind race at the worst moment possible.

But first the cabin would be explored, that was certain. At least, it'd be explored eventually, and that was what mattered. The clock would be noticed, ticking away furiously. The note would be found, and it would read thus:

they come at nightfall. do not be caught outdoors when the sun goes down. they will hurt you.

Some would scoff, others would grow concerned, others still would remain apathetic.

But the note did not lie.

And the clock [link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s9Vn5kCasUo]ticked[/link] away.

The handsome man dressed in a sharp business suit and a silver tie opened his eyes. Searching endless for any type of recognizable. . .anything, really, he rose quickly. Bumbling around, he felt a sharp pain in his head. Wha. . .He clenched his jaw as he opened his eyes again. He collapsed against a wall and slid down to the wooden flooring. He glanced around. He was in a. . .cabin? Yes, that was the word. Cabin. He noticed there were others. How had he ended up here?

He tried to recall anything from the past, but it was foggy. Words drifted by in the haze. Courtroom was one of them. Rosa. Lawyer. Allen. That was his name, he remembered. Allen. . .Sheppard? Damn, he couldn?t even remember his name.

From what he could snatch through the haze, he had been a lawyer. Allen Sheppard had been a lawyer. And he had a wife? Girlfriend? Rosa, had been her name. The rest was lost in the fog.

He rose from the floor and wandered away from the others who had yet to awake. Rubbing his sore head, he leaned down to a woman. Shaking her vigorously, he eventually stopped. He stood up and walked back to the wall. He slid down it in frustration.

More words were lost to him. Images came then. A sexy Latino woman in a negligee. A pompous man standing above him. A magnificent house on a hill that grinned down at anyone who happened to walk by. Allen realized then that he was rich. Yes, he was a rich lawyer with a great girl.

He sat against the wall, contemplating what he would do. Waiting for the others to awake.

Ears strained. Nothing. Eyes opened. A ceiling. Odd, not one he remembered. Remembered... What did he remember? His name... was Ian. That was it. Last name... who needs it? Last name comes from a father, and he hated those. Why? He sat up, looked around. Another man, well dressed. Looked down at himself. Blue jeans, converse, T-shirt, unzipped hoodie. Better dressed than him, it seemed. Older, too. How old am I? Glanced around, noticed several others around him. One woman looked ruffled. Shaken up?

Ian turned to the older man. "'Ello there. 'Ave any idea whereabouts we are?" he asked in his British accent. He stood up and stretched, walked over to a window. Fog was all he could see. "Blood dismal whether, ain't it?"

She awoke with a start. She had been all warm and snuggled down in sleep, when her movement caused her to roll onto ... something? Her eyes snapped open, and focused on something next to her face. She rolled backwards a bit, and noticed it was a chair or table leg. What the...?

She sat up quickly, and noticed that her head hurt. Well, maybe not hurt. Felt funny. That's when she noticed she wasn't alone. There was movement, and other noises. Someone was here with her. Her hand automatically went to her waist without thinking, to grasp...nothing. She frowned, confused. She was dressed all in black. Black slacks, turtleneck shirt, black tennis shoes, even a small black cap that was on her head. Gloves. Jacket. Obvious, she thought she had something on her belt, when she first woke up. What had she been doing before that? That's when the next shock came to her. Her memory, or more directly, her lack of it thereof. It took her a moment to remember her name. Abby. They called her Abby. Short for Abigail..she thought. Other names came to mind. Names she knew she had used .. but why? Green. Yes, Abby Green. That seemed to suit her for the moment. She heard a voice, a young man, in blue jeans, and a thick British accent spoke.

"'Ello there. 'Ave any idea whereabouts we are?" he asked. He wasnt speaking towards her, but to the other man who had now sat down. the young man stood up and stretched, walked over to a window. "Bloody dismal whether, ain't it?"

Window. Abby looked around the cabin. Looked like a normal cabin to her. She quickly noted that her hands and feet were not tied. So, it was a possibility they werent responsible. Abby slowly stood up, and noticed that she was near a table. There was a note on the table. She reached out, and unfolded it, and read it.

' they come at nightfall. do not be caught outdoors when the sun goes down. they will hurt you.'

She made a face, thinking ... well, several things, actually. She looked at the guy towards the windows.

"Depends on the view." she stated slowly, her tongue feeling a bit slow. Green eyes looking over at the man, as she brushed away a wisp of brown hair. "See anything out there?" she asked him, as she began to walk catlike past the table, examining the cabin closely, as she looked to see what else was in teh cabin.

Ian started slightly as the woman spoke from behind him. He turned to see her clothed all in black, standing next to the table. On the table next to her was a note, and she was making a face at it. "Depends on the view. See anything out there?" she asked. He turned to look again. Nothing, still fog. But... there was something incredibly... eerie about it. Suddenly he felt a chill run through him, and for the first time he noticed the clock ticking away.

He clapped his hands, rubbed them together, and turned back to the other two. "I's just fog." There was a slight pause. "Say, wot's on that note, there?" he asked to the woman. "And wot'chore names?" he asked both of them.

He clapped his hands, rubbed them together, and turned back to the other two. "I's just fog." There was a slight pause. "Say, wot's on that note, there?" he asked to the woman. "And wot'chore names?" he asked both of them.

The other man was slumped against a wall, silent. Abby scanned the cabin, looking for anything that might be considered ... useful. She turned, and picked up the note.

"Sounds like something from a bad horror novel." She answered him. She then began to read the note, lowering her voice for effect. " they come at nightfall. do not be caught outdoors when the sun goes down. they will hurt you."

She made a face again. "Sure is a mood killer, aint it?" she added with a wry grin. She then shrugged her shoulders. "Names, Abby. Seems to be the only thing I remember at the moment. Anyone got a clue how they got here, while we're introducing ourselves?" she asked the others. Abby kept looking around. She would not stop until she found something she could consider a weapon. She just felt like it was something she should have right now. Especially with so many unknowns.

Allen watched as another man rose. Blue jeans, hoodie. Resembled some kind of slacker. Allen only watched him with mild interest. He was still lost in the memories. He kept seeing her face. Rosa. What was so important about her? Allen only watched as the young man turned to him.

"'Ello there. 'Ave any idea whereabouts we are?"

Allen followed the man as he approached a window.

"Bloody dismal whether, ain't it?"

A woman suddenly woke up. She was dressed all in black. She stumbled around for a second before she wandered upon a note. He gazed at her in interest. She was mildly pretty.

"they come at nightfall. do not be caught outdoors when the sun goes down. they will hurt you."

"Sure is a mood killer, aint it?" "Names, Abby. Seems to be the only thing I remember at the moment. Anyone got a clue how they got here, while we're introducing ourselves?"

?I?m Allen. . .Shepard, I believe. And I just woke up. I haven?t got an idea in the world as to how I got here. Just that I woke up with worst headache.? He rubbed his forehead. ?And for some. . .strange reason, I can?t exactly remember a lot before this.?

"Names, Abby. Seems to be the only thing I remember at the moment. Anyone got a clue how they got here, while we're introducing ourselves?"

The guy who had been dressed rather fancy, slumped against the wall suddenly became talkative. "I?m Allen. . .Shepard, I believe. And I just woke up. I haven?t got an idea in the world as to how I got here. Just that I woke up with worst headache." He rubbed his forehead. "And for some. . . strange reason, I can?t exactly remember a lot before this."

He looked to both of them.

"Do either of you?"

Abby shook her head. "Nope. Not a good sign." Abby frowned. "And this note would indicate that someone else was, or still is here. They might know what is going on. Someone had to bring us here." she stated, frowning. Loss of memory. Background. For all she knew, one of them could be that person, faking waking up with the others. Or worse, there was another out there, hiding. She suddenly wondered what time of day it was. After all, if they had to worry about the nightfall, then they needed to know when nightfall would begin. She began to check herself. Perhaps the items they had when they had been taken, were still on them? A watch, wallet...stuff they might have hidden on them...woah? That was a strange thought.

She wandered towards the kitchen, looking to see if there was anything sharp she could place in her clothing for protection till she figured this thing out. She .. it just seemed it would make her feel safer.

She then made a sharp laugh. "Anyone wanna take a peek outside, and see if we can figure out where we are at least?"

OOC: The accent I'm going for is not one I'm really familiar with writing, so if you have tips or feedback, they're welcome.

Ian

"Sounds like something from a bad horror novel. They come at nightfall. do not be caught outdoors when the sun goes down. they will hurt you." That last bit was said with added mood and emphasis. "Sure is a mood killer, aint it?"

"Names, Abby. Seems to be the only thing I remember at the moment. Anyone got a clue how they got here, while we're introducing ourselves?" At this the prick in the suit spoke up. ?I?m Allen. . .Shepard, I believe. And I just woke up. I haven?t got an idea in the world as to how I got here. Just that I woke up with worst headache. And for some. . .strange reason, I can?t exactly remember a lot before this.? There was a pause. ?Do either of you??

"Nope. Not a good sign. And this note would indicate that someone else was, or still is here. They might know what is going on. Someone had to bring us here." Ian checked his abdomen for scars, making sure all of his organs were still there. Fortunately, they were. He patted himself down, noticed he was missing his wallet and iPod. That could be a problem. And he was a little worried about his memory loss. But not that much. For some reason, he got the feeling that what he would remember wasn't much better than his current situation.

The woman who had identified herself as Abby laughed sharply and suddenly. "Anyone wanna take a peek outside, and see if we can figure out where we are at least?"

"I dunno," Ian replied. "Got any idea wot time it is?" In the back of his mind he still heard the ticking. "I'nt there a clock nearby? Coz I ain't too thrilled 'bout gettin' mugged by no creepy fog monsters." He glanced outside again, then began to look around for anything... useful.

Abby noticed one of the men check their body for something..but he seemed to be fine with what he found. Probably missing stuff like she was.. not that she could exactally remember WHAT it was she was missing.

"Anyone wanna take a peek outside, and see if we can figure out where we are at least?" she asked the two men.

"I dunno," the first man answered. "Got any idea wot time it is?" He paused. "I'nt there a clock nearby? Coz I ain't too thrilled 'bout gettin' mugged by no creepy fog monsters." She quickly noticed that he was looking about the cabin as well. She grinned. She was still looking herself.

She walked over, and giving a nod to the guys, took a look out of the window. The fog was thick. It was daylight, but it was hard to guage what time of day from inside the cabin. She chrugged her shoulders. "Cant tell time from here. And I seem to be missing a few items. Might be a clock around here someplace." Abby turned away from the window, and sighed.

"Well...I'm gonna search this cabin for stuff, and see if I can find anything useful. THEN, I'll think about taking a peek oustide. I wanna know where we are... and if anything else is out is useful.

Allen glanced around at the others. For the woman. . .Abby, he believed, had implanted fear in his mind. Most likely, one of the three of them had something to do with this. Or someone else was hiding out. And yet Allen didn?t want to believe that. He didn?t want to believe that someone had brought them all to this cabin and then wiped their brains. And now they were left to wander the place. The other man, a Brit, continued to ask questions but Allen found it almost impossible to respond appropriately to anything the man was saying. British was not his language, and he found it odd that Spanish words lingered on the tip of his tongue. From Rosa? he pondered the thought in the back of his mind.

Abby then suggested she would investigate the rest of the cabin for anything useful. And then she would venture outside.

"Well...I'm gonna search this cabin for stuff, and see if I can find anything useful. THEN, I'll think about taking a peek oustide. I wanna know where we are... and if anything else out there is useful."

The man ... Allen, was it?, seemed to think for a moment before he responded. "I?m with you. . .Abby." he replied. He then added, "So, where do we begin?"

Abby blinked for a moment. This felt oddly familiar. Not the man directly, but how they were speaking. She decided to push that thought away for the moment, and worry more about staying alive. She looked about, crossing her arms in front of her, before she spoke.

"Well.. I guess right now, we better search this cabin for anything we can use as a weapon. And check it as well. If we are going to use this place as a stronghold, I would really hate to find out after nightfall that the place has issues. We're gonna need food and light. Search around, and see if this place has a stove. If it has electricity. If not, we're going to need firewood, before the sun sets...which leads us back to weapons...."

Abby gave a slight grin. 'It sucks to have an overactive imagination.' she thought to herself. "So, lets search this place one side at a time, and see what we have to work with. She walked over, and picked up one of the chairs. She then smashed it hard against the floor, breaking off several parts of it. She grabbed a leg piece. "Can never be too careful..and until I find something better.." She gave another grin. She then blew out a stream of air from her mouth, and sighed.

"Let's try the rest of this front area first. Then the kitchen area. If there is going to be anything sharp around here, it's a good place to begin. Who knows, might find some more sleepers around as well." Abby paused for a moment, and then decided to add...

As the residents of the cabin spoke with each other, they became aware of a strange vibration within the air.

All other sound seemed irrelevant as their ears tuned into it, a [link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvAJIyItOME&feature=related]strange frequency, modulating[/link] into something familiar. The amplitude increased, and they heard a voice where there was once noise, emanating as if from nowhere.

Or worse, as if from the cabin itself.

"Good evening, my pets."

The voice had a strange reverberant note to it, and on occasion the vibrating frequency was heard behind it.

"I apologize for your accommodations, but the fact of the matter is I was pressed for time, and luxury is not a trait I am terribly fond of."

A certain smugness could be heard in the Voice.

"By now you'll have begun to search the cabin; I wish you the best of luck, my pets, for you shall need it. You will find little of value. There are approximately ten knives, most of them designed for the preparation of food. There also exists a kitchen stocked with rations. Again, little in the way of luxury."

The drone returned for a moment.

"I have some other pets that do not get along well with others. They will be awake shortly. Make your preparations, and try not to die. It would be such a pity. As a final thought, there is one rifle in a cabinet, though the shells are limited to a meager fifteen. Good luck."

And then it [link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5TLlaKWqN8]laughed.[/link]

And then it laughed. Like a freaking maniac. The creepy voice reverberating from the walls told them they were all going to die, and laughed maniacally. Wonderful. Absolutely brilliant.

"Bloody hell, that must've bin Satan," Ian muttered to himself. He moved to the kitchen, and saw that there were indeed ten knives within. And, just as the voice had said, most of them wouldn't be much good in combat. Hurray. He turned to the other two.

"You lot know how to fire a rifle?" he asked unhopefully. He turned in a circle, scanning the cabin. "Maybe some barricades..." he mused out loud. He glanced at the remains of the broken chair, then moved to wedge them into the window frame.

Apparently, she was sensitive to the surrounding are pressure, and something seemed to be bothering her ears. then she heard a strange frequency, and then .... a voice, that seemed to come from all around them.

"Good evening, my pets."

Pets? Well, that was an interesting word. Abby didnt like the sound of it one bit, and looking at the reactions from the others in the house, neither did they. She pretty much tuned out the freaky voice except when it spoke about something that caught her interest.

One..there seemed to be plenty of food in the cabin. Two...there were weapons. Ten knives.

Three...there was someone else here, that seemed to not like people, and THEY would be awake shortly...multiple targets? Lovely, thought the snide comment about trying not to die did seem a bit much.

And four...there was a rifle. With 15 shells. Which, with the word meager..seemed to be woefully short.

And then it laughed.

Oh for heavens sake, why do they always have to laugh. She kept her face neutral as she quickly started to ponder the why and reasons of this game. Why wipe their memories? Obviously they were picked for a reason. Unless this thing just wanted to inflict some nice psychopathic fun.

Abby sighed.

The man with the British accent spoke up then. "You lot know how to fire a rifle?" he asked, his voice not really wanting to hope. He turned in a circle, scanning the cabin. "Maybe some barricades..." he mused out loud. He glanced at the remains of the broken chair, then moved to wedge them into the window frame.

Abby moved to the kitchen, and grabbed a knife. She placed to in her belt. As long as it was sharp, and had a point, it was useful. Kinda flimsy, but better than nothing. She then searched out for the rifle and bullets. As she did she started talking.

"Sorry. Im not taking...whatever the Frack that was, on its words. We still need to search this cabin, and figure out its weak spots, and then fix them. She reached up into the cabinet, finding the rifle and shells.

She came back with them, and put them down on the table. "And since we do know what, or how many of its... uh PETS, might be out there, we need to save the bullets for last. And if we can set up a perimeter around this cabin, maybe something like some bonfires, or spikes, or something so we can see. We need to figure out a high point..."

She banged her fist on the table. "Heck, I dont know! Too many unknowns. This this place have an attic? A basement? We need to find out, and find out quick. Cause if we are on a island with unfriendly natives, I want to keep them as far away as I can. She stopped and looked at the Brit.

"Oh..and dude. Them little sticks aint gonna barricade that window. You want to put up some furniture up there. A table.So maybe there are some hammer and nails around? That or we start throwing the couches and whatever big appliances that are in this dump to cover up as much as we can. So....we STILL gotta search around for whatever we can find."

Abby turned and began to move for the door. "Any of you gents want to keep an eye out for me, while I look and see if there is anything out side useful...or at least tell us what or where we are?"

OOC: Unfortunately, I'm going to have to turn over my character to the GM. I don't have enough free time between sports, school, homework, and the upcoming deadline for early admissions for college applications. Sorry guys! T.T

Those in the cabin turned their heads immediately towards the sound, curious, afraid; doubt filled the air, was this really happening?

The horrible answer was yes.

Windows smashed inwards and bloodied arms and hands reached through, voices moaning and groaning in pain or mindless automation. A shriek filled the air as loud thumps were heard at the door. An odor was present in the air, cloying, barely there but also unavoidable. Survival instincts kicked in where flight was not chosen (and how could it be?); if those were hands and arms through the windows, then the thumping could only be bodies ramming against the door.

What was out there? What wanted in?

Zombies?

No.

No, something far worse.

A figure was visible on the shore, behind the ravening mobs of people - humans, living individuals, driven mad or mindless by something - a wide-brimmed hat upon his head, a death's head grin on his face, his jacket little more than rags. He leaned upon a scythe.

His voice resonated as if from nowhere again, always in their ears though he was nearly two hundred meters away.

"Tragically this operation must be cut short. Bring them to me, pets. Bring these blasphemers to the god of fear."

And the cabin's occupants realized with a start that it wasn't mindless groaning, that there was a low, deep chant pulsating through the bodies pressing in on the cabin.